Present time. The clearing was silent. No one spoke.
Auren stepped forward slowly, his voice low. "I've read the name Vahanastra before. In an old book. It said the house vanished overnight. Burned to ash. Only the head survived—and he lost his mind. No one knew why."
The unknown woman looked at him, then at the others. She continued.
"What happened that night spread like wildfire. Everyone who had attended the great meeting was stunned. The House of Vahanastra—once powerful, once feared—was now gone. Only its leader remained, broken, mad. No one understood what had truly happened.
But what they didn't know was that a tsunami was coming—one that would drown them all.
After the destruction of Vahanastra, Kael vanished. No one knew where he went. He left the ruins behind and walked into darkness. And in time, the world began to change.
Demon attacks became more frequent. Villages were destroyed. Cities were overrun. Light was being driven back, and the darkness found its place again. Slowly, the balance shifted. The world started to crumble.
In desperation, twelve monks from the last surviving sanctuaries came together. They prayed, day and night, begging the gods for help.
And a voice answered.
'The warrior I gave you has been turned. Human greed made him your greatest enemy. His power grows every day. But here—take this child. She is the one who will bring him back. She is your salvation.'
A bright light flashed. And then it was gone.
In its place lay a baby girl.
The monks took her in. They raised her together, teaching her every art of combat, every sacred mantra passed through generations. Her name… was Lyra."
The woman paused and looked directly at her.
"They named her Lyra."
Gasps rose from the group. All eyes turned to the girl standing still among them.
Lyra's hands shook—not from fear, but from something deeper. A heavy, unshakable weight. So this was what she was made for. Not to be loved. Not even to live. But to save the one who would destroy her.
The woman continued.
"Years passed. Twenty-two, to be exact. And by then, Kael had absorbed every ounce of demon essence left in the old world. He had become their commander. Not just a man with power—but a demon in flesh. Under his control, the demon armies won battle after battle. No human force could stop him."
She looked down.
"One day, a small village on the western frontier was attacked. Demons ran wild, destroying homes, tearing down everything. And then—she appeared. The girl raised by the twelve monks.
Lyra.
She didn't kill the demons. She defeated them and captured them alive.
The nearest powerful House at the time was the House of Caelthorn, led by Lord Veyron Caelthorn. He saw what she had done and offered her support. The captured demons were locked up and interrogated.
For the first time in decades, they heard the truth.
That the one leading the demon army wasn't a demon.
It was a human. A human named Kael Vahanastra.
That single fact shocked the world.
From that day forward, Lyra stood with the remaining Houses. They reorganized the scattered forces of the light. With her, they started pushing back.
The war between dark and light resumed. But this time, the light wasn't falling. It was holding.
Kael's armies began losing ground. His generals grew afraid. They warned him about the girl—about how she was winning battles no one thought possible.
So Kael decided to see for himself.
He came to a small town, alone. Disguised. Years had passed—no one recognized him anymore. He walked the streets, listened to the people, asked quiet questions.
Every answer led to one name.
One woman.
She was the reason the demons were failing. She was the reason light had returned.
Kael didn't say a word. He returned to his camp. He met with his war council. And then he gave one command:
Find her.
He returned to that same town and remained there. Not to destroy it. Not yet.
He needed to learn more. To watch. To understand what he was facing.
He needed to know how to kill her.
Let the world call her light. She would drown like the rest."
The unknown woman fell silent.
Everyone looked at Lyra.
The red moon above them hadn't moved.
Far below the mountain fortress, carved in bone and sealed in shadow, a spiral flared red once more.
The next turn had begun.